The Cancer of the Opera
by demonicallyangelic
Summary: My first attempt at any fan fiction... I will continue it if people want me to! I do not own the characters or the story plot. Constructive criticism please! Thanks!
1. Chapter 1 Prologue

**Prologue:**

A group of elderly patrons sit in the front few rows of the abandoned opera house. The stage is only dimly lit using what lighting was left from the original structure. The opera house is old, almost ancient. Cobwebs hang from abandoned sculptures of the legends of the past. Each one is decked with its own nameplate: Sufferer, Dolorosa, Redglare, and many others. They seem to loom over the stage as if they were fondly regarding the messy-haired man standing at the podium.

_Thunk. _"Sold… and your number bro? Ah yes, thank you." The auctioneer paused for a moment, as if the take in the scene from behind his half-closed eyelids. "Next here we have lot 411… a poster from this theatre's production of Hannitroll. 412 boondollars?" He looked around the room as the porter, a paraplegic, attempted and failed to open up the poster to its full length. "412 boondollars anyone? C'mon, it'll make you more imaginative… fine, 300 boondollars?"

A blonde-haired old man raised his hand. Despite the dimness of the room, the old man was still wearing a pair of aviator shades and had on a top hat that further darkened his line of vision. He was wearing a black suit along with a glaring red bow tie.

"Sweet, bro. We've got 300 boondollars. Anyone? Hm? 300 once, 300 twice…" _Thunk._ "Sold to Monsieur Strider, Knight of Time Estates." There were murmurs among the crowd; that name was very well known. "Now here, lot 412. It is a musical mIrAcLe that was found in the caves underneath the opera house: a paper-mache music box, in perfect working condition, with the figurehead of a crab that snaps its claws and a carving of something that looks to me like sickles. Woah. Welp, anybro want it? 500 boondollars." A number of hands rose up from the crowd. "Sweet… 500, 550, 600. 650, 800… 800 boondollars?" All the hands but one went down. "800 once, 800 twice… sold again to Knight of Time Esates. Good call bro. Have fun with your new box."

The paraplegic pulled his wheelchair up to the man's chair. He panted slightly, he grinned sheepishly as if in apology, and set the music box in the man's lap. The Knight nodded a silent approval, and the porter wheeled off to prepare the next bid. Dave stared at the box, gently raising his hand to rest it on the head of the crab figure. He slowly closed his eyes…

_An Alternian piece indeed…_

_Every curve exactly as he said._

_He often recalled of you my friend…_

_Your aged old look, your eyes a candy red._

_Will you still sing when all of us are dead?_

"And now for lot 413. Some of you old school bros may recall the mIrac-mystifying case of the Cancer of the Opera. This is said to be that very chandelier that fell on the stage the night of the incident. Of course, the bros over at our department fixed it up and added new electric lights to it, so it's pretty much good as new. Now, maybe a mIrAcUlOuS illumination boys!"


	2. Chapter 2 Hannitroll

**I'm so sorry that this took so long! I've been so busy lately that I didn't realize how long this part would actually take. ^^;;; But, here it is, finally!**

**Also, hearts and hats off to my wonderful beta, WingedWolfStar! Check out her works at u/2517525/!**

**From now on I'll try to update this every week or two, so hopefully it'll work faster! Thanks everyone for the views, reviews and follows!**

The opera house is brightly lit. A poster hangs from the ceiling that reads, "The Alternian Opera presents: The 2009 Production of Hannitroll." Below, the cast rehearses upon the newly waxed stage. Dancers prance about in the background, while a chorus awaits their cue as a woman with long black hair and a particularly nasty-looking eye patch steps up to sing.

_This plunder from our greatest enemies,_

_Greatest enemies!_

_From the vile forces of role play!_

The chorus winces at the sound of her sharp, off-key voice, however they still follow her lead, first the women, then the men.

_With trolling and LARPing and song,_

_Tonight in celebration,_

_We greet the losing crowd,_

_Grinning, to send them to damnation._

_The horns of Alternia sound,_

_Here humans, hide and shake!_

_Hark, to our control,_

_Of this ground!_

_Hear the quake- Hannitroll comes!_

A tall, lanky man appears on stage. He has on a pair of ridiculous-looking glasses and a deep purple cape. He has dyed the front tuft of his hair purple. With a grand flourish he beings to sing.

_Disheartened to return to our hive-sweet-hive,_

_Only to discover it is once again threatened by the other wwor-_

The chorus manager, a tall, pale woman with jade green lipstick, raps her baton on her stand and glares at the singer in clear disapproval. "Eridan Ampora, how many times have I told you _not_ to vibrate that 'w'? Haven't we worked on this enough sir? Please, just get it right; _threatened by the other world_…"

"Wwell, I'm sorry madam, but clearly I cannot help wwavvering certain sounds. And your "tutoring" is merely a wwork of you sitting there and sewing, Kanaya." Kanaya makes another face.

Suddenly, the door to the theater bursts open with a satisfactory '_bang'_. A trio of men enters; a woman with deep red glasses and a peculiar, dragon-headed cane follows. The eldest man is going on about something.

"This way gentlemen, this way. As you can see, rehearsals are currently underway for _Hannitroll_." He then directs his speech to the cast. "Here, as you may already know, are Monsieurs Jake English and Dirk Strider…"

"I'm sorry Monsieur Harley, but, we are rehearsing." Says Kanaya impatiently, "Can we please save this for a later time?"

"Oh. My apologies, Madame Maryam."

"Mmhm. Now, start again from "_Only to discover_", Monsieur Ampora."

_Only to discover it is once again threatened by the other __**world**__._

_Tomorrow we shall snap their internet cords,_

_But tonight, rejoice, your pirates have come home._

"That fine lady is Madame Maryam. She's a wonderful teacher, though she is known to be strict and somewhat feared… moving on then. The man singing now is our most prized tenor, Monsieur Ampora. He is very much the opposite of our soprano, Madame Serket, who is on the side." Harley continues.

"Yes," drawls a hissing voice from behind them, "and on the side your good monsieur must stand if my dancers are to dance, hehehehe." From the shadows behind them steps the lady with the red glasses. She sports dark hair and a mischievous grin, which is enhanced by her teal and red attire. She taps her cane with a sort of tried patience as she faces the men. "Because if our time is taken, justice must be served to balance the scales, and when the dancers don't practice, it will be you, the manager, who receives the harsh end of the verdict. hehehe…" she cackles evilly.

"Ah, I-I'm sorry madame Pyrope, I was just…."

"I don't mind what you were just doing. Though if you monsieurs insist on staying… the front row seats are open." she taps her cane again, harder this time.

"Y-yes madam, my deepest apologies…" Monsieur Harley turns and ushers Jake and Dirk into the theatre seats. He then whispers to them, "That was Madame Terezi Pyrope. She's our dance mistress, although sometimes it seems that she runs most of the arts department. However, if there is one thing you two must know, it is that Madame Pyrope is blind. How she's able to run the dance department I will never know, and you two should never question. It's said it was a childhood accident that blinded her. Though there's also the rumor that her blindness was the jealous doing of our soprano, Madame Serket, and that she blinded Pyrope so that she could never again read music. This is just a rumor though. No one will probably ever find out, so it's just a subject that shouldn't be touched, understand?" The two younger men just sit and nod, dumbfound by the new information. "Truth be told, I do not regret at all giving up this theatre."

"Excuse me sir, but, why do you wish to give up this whole show?" Dirk stares intensely at Monsieur Harley, his look sort of… skeptical. Completely ignoring his question, the old man drones on.

"We keep a good deal of pride and commitment within the theatre, however one of our star departments is our dance department." Suddenly, Jake speaks up, his voice hinting slightly at a suppressed British accent.

"Ah Harley, old chap, who are those two young ladies, the purple and green-eyed ones in the middle?

"Why, those are Mademoiselles Rose Lalonde and Jade Harley. Rose is the adopted younger sister of Madame Maryam, while Jade is my very own granddaughter. The two are wonderful friends; extremely promising dancers as well."

Up until then, the rehearsal had been going on smoothly in the background of their conversation. However, just as Monsieur Harley finishes his sentence, Terezi taps her cane sharply on the stage floor.

"You, John Egbert. Concentrate! Your job is not to play the piano but to dance!" She points her cane (though a little off to the left) at a boy about the same age as Jade and Rose. He has on a pair of suspenders, a striped shirt, and top hat. His hair is a dark coal color, complimented by his bright blue eyes, which are sadly hidden behind a pair of dorky-looking glasses.

As Terezi lectures him for his lack of concentration, Jade and Rose approach John.

"John are you alright?" whispers Jade, concern flooding her expression.

"Yes, John, you have been really distracted lately. What's going on?" Rose follows. John merely shakes his head and gives them a shy, weak smile.

"Egbert? Hmm…" Dirk thinks aloud. "Funny name."

"That's what everyone thinks at first. One just gets used to it after a while." Answers Harley with a sigh.

"Any relation to the late pianist?" asks Jake.

"Yes, his son I believe. He was originally enrolled to be our pianist, but seeing how we already have one, well… he was instead trasferred to dancing. He always has his thoughts in the clouds, head in the sky. When he first came all the boy could talk about was what it would be like to fly." Replies Harley, "I envy his imagination."

The chorus starts up again, after Terezi's quick interruption.

_Say welcome to Hannitroll's guests- the citizens of prospit!_

_As guides on our L-ARPing quests- they are sent for Hannitroll's friends!_

Madame Serket once again takes center stage, followed by Monsieur Ampora.

_Once more to my metal arms my morail returns to splendor!_

_Once more to the sweetest of pales my heart and soul surrender!_

The chorus joins in for the finale:

_The parading citizens sound- hear, Alternians, now and quake!_

_Hark to their rule of the ground- hear the parade, the Hannitroll parade!_

As the meager audience claps enthusiastically, Monsieur Harley walks onto stage and clears his throat, signaling for silence.

"Ladies and gentletrolls- Madame Pyrope, thank you dearly – may I please have your attention? Alrighty then. As most of you may know, for a couple months now there have been rumors floating around about my retirement. Today I have come to tell you that these rumors… are true! I would like to introduce you to these two gentleman, Monsieur Jake English and Monsieur Dirk Strider, who, as of right now, officially own the Alternian Opera. Gentlemen, our lead soprano, Madame Vriska Serket."

"Madame Serket!" says Jake heartily, "I have heard many of your performances. Top notch, I say!" He walks up and grabs her hand in greeting, followed by an eye-rolling Dirk.

"And our lead tenor, Monsieur Eridan Ampora." Finishes Harley.

Dirk approaches the said man, and holds out his fist. Eridan meets Dirk's fist with his own for a fairly satisfactory 'bump'.

Jake, however, stays overly ecstatic about being able to meet the blue-blooded singer in person.

"Ah, Madame Serket, I heard that you have the solo role in Act 3 of Hannitroll! Could you, um, maybe give us a little sneak preview?"

"Only if my manager lets me." Vriska looks toward Kanaya.

"Only if you agree to sing. Will one measure be enough for a start?"

"That is more than enough; eight times more than enough." Smiles Vriska, and promptly beings to sing.

_Dream of me, dream of me fondly_

_When we've said goodnight._

_Dream with me, every so often,_

_Please promise me you'll try._

_And on that day, if there does come that day,_

_When you are far away from me,_

_If you ever find a lone night,_

_Spare a dream with me._

_Dream of me, dream of me…_

Suddenly, the backdrop of the state crashes to the floor, nearly hitting the singing soprano. Screams pierce the air and the crowd of performers and managers stand, completely dumbfounded.

_The Cancer of the Opera, he's with us, he's a ghost._

_He's here, the Cancer of the Opera!_

Monsieur Harley rushes to Vriska's side, to help up the fallen singer.

"Madame, are you alright? Are you hurt?" Then, turning to the loft of the opera house, Harley shouts, "Loft manager, Scratch, are you up there sir? I demand to know the meaning of this at once!"

_Please Harley, don't look at me._

_As Huss my witness, I was not at my post._

_Please Monsieur there's no one there:_

_And if there is, then it must be: a ghost._

Suddenly, Jade sings, high pitched and eerie:

_He's there, the Cancer of the Opera!_

"Dear, please show a little courtesy." Says Dirk. Meanwhile, Jake is fretting over Vriska.

"Madame, are you alright? Does anything hurt? Please, let me help you up…"

"I'm sorry Madame, but these things do happen…" says Harley sadly.

In a huff, Vriska explodes in anger. "Of course! These things _obviously_ do happen! Well, until you _stop_ these things from happening, our singing and performances do _not_ happen! Ampora! Let's leave. We have more important things to do. Amateurs."

As the two singers leave, so does Monsieur Harley.

"Well, I guess there is nothing else for me to help you two with about tending to this opera house. If you ever need me, I will be adventuring in the tropics."

Jake pouts on the stage, whispering to himself, "She'll be back, Serket will be back…"

"Do you really think so green-boy?" The entire stage turns to stare at Terezi, who is holding a sealed letter. "This, Monsieurs English, Strider, is from the Opera ghost himself."

"Geez, you all really are obsessed with this ghost aren't you?" sighs Dirk as he runs a hand through his hair.

"All he wants is to welcome you to his opera house. Monsieur Dirk. "Cackles Terezi, "And to remember to pay his salary, as well as to leave box 12 open for tonight's performance."

"His salary?" Dirk stares from behind his shades.

"Indeed. Harley paid him 20 boonbonds a month. You could pay him more perhaps, because of the generous checks that the theatre will be receiving from the now-to-be regular audience of the great Knight of Time Estates. Am I wrong?"

"Madame Pyrope, Jake and I had hoped to reveal that by ourselves…"

"Will he be in the crowd tonight then?"

"Indeed he will, in our own box."

All of a sudden, Jake pipes up. "Um… if he's going to be here this afternoon," Jake pulls nervously at his green bow tie, "Then where's the understudy for Madame Serket's role?"

"There is no understudy. This is a brand new production sir." Replies Pyrope.

"Excuse me, but perhaps John could sing it Madame." Says Rose, pushing through the crowd. Jade, who is dragging John with her, follows. "He's been taking lessons from a magnificent teacher lately. His singing does not lose to Vriska's."

"Rose, Jade? What are you doing? I…" John sputters as he is pulled into the spotlight.

Terezi taps her cane once more. "Let the boy try. I have heard him sing; he seems well trained."

"Very well then." Says Kanaya, readying her fingers over the piano keys, "From the beginning of _Dream of Me_ then, shall we John?"


	3. Intermission 1 Davehem

**Intermission 1: Davehem**

**As the curtain closes for intermission, the lights in the theatre come on. You blink a few times to let your eyes adjust. All throughout the play, you've noticed that the opera has just been almost directly scripted from the original, thus making it boring and seemingly pointless to watch. But you decide to keep watching; you've already paid for the ticket anyways. Maybe you'll recommend to the director to add some humor, or at least some personal ideas to make it even a **_**little**_** more interesting.**

**Suddenly, something falls into your lap. It's a card on a lanyard. The card is labeled 'FRONT ROW SEAT/BACKSTAGE PASS'. You turn it over and read the hastily scribbled note:**

**Please forgive the dullness, the director is working on it. Please do accept this pass as our apology.**

**~Team DemonicallyAngelic**

** - Attempt to go backstage.**

** - No, it's dangerous, and probably a trap. Stay where you are.**

**You shrug and decide to give it a try; it doesn't seem very likely that you'll get attacked in such a public place. You make your way out of your seat, and back into the main lobby of the theatre. Continuing towards the PERFORMERS ONLY hallway, you are stopped and inspected by a pair of bright red nakadiles who are wearingly little suits and wearing little shades (it's cute but also kind of intimidating to you). Surprisingly, the nakadiles let you pass. You keep going down the corridor and open a pair doors marked BACKSTAGE. This leads you to a badly lighted room filled with boxes of props and costumes. You hear voices as you continue past badly pained scenery and ripped curtains. The dim lighting slowly gets brighter as you step into a much larger space. The room is filled with costumes and paper, which you assume to be parts of scripts. There are many curtains put up; you assume these are their makeshift dressing rooms. You are tempted to explore the area.**

**- Explore the area.**

**- Go back outside.**

**Exploration seems more exciting. Plus, the intermission isn't even half over. You slowly walk into the room and attempt to explore the area.**

**- The voices are coming closer.**

**You disregard them. You have a pass anyways.**

**- The voices sound unhappy and are dangerously close.**

**You lose your gut to explore and hide behind a stack of boxes just in time for people to come into view.**

"Dave! You were supposed to be onstage!" Dave turns to stare at Jane as she frets and attempts to push him on.

"Yo, chill Janey, it's not like anyone's gonna give a crap."

Jane stops her frantic outburst. She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it without a word and shakes her head. Dave is a hardheaded kid. There's nothing she could to change his coolkid mind.

"As long as everyone else says so," says Jane, "Just know that this opera isn't something that you can drop out on…"

"Sure it isn't." replies Dave, rolling his eyes behind his shades. However, as soon as the words leave his mouth, John crashes through the side curtain.

"Dave! You were supposed to be onstage!" John cries.

"John, you know perfectly well that my part is so ironically ironic that it's the highest freaking level of ironicism just not to show up."

"Wha-Dave, that doesn't even make sense!" pouts John.

"Of course it doesn't," sighs Dave matter-of-factly, "at least not to you. It makes perfect sense only to those who have reached a certain peak of coolness; equals not you John."

"Daaaaaaaaaave! That makes even _less_ sense!" John huffs. "Well, the point is that you were supposed to be onstage! You know that the opera's not going to work if you only show up in the prologue just because you get to wear a beard and a top hat! We even complied with all your requests for all your little nakadile suits and nakadile shades that Kanaya spent three whole days on while neither Casey nor Bec got costumes and they're completely useless and they really weren't needed and Kanaya probably did all that work for nothing and and…"

By this point John has already started making exasperated hand motions and has begun to pull at his hair in a fit of pure annoyance.

"You know John, you're cute when you get freaked out like that." smirks Dave.

Upon hearing this, John freezes. His face turns a bright cherry red; which, Dave notes, is just the most adorable contrast to his bright blue eyes.

"I-I-arrg!" John stomps off, red-faced, towards his dressing room, leaving a smirking Dave alone backstage. Dave breathes a sigh of relief; silence at last… but not for long.

"Dave! You were supposed to be onstage!" Jade squeals, clearly upset by his lack of appearance.

"Hey, Jade. It's not like I was supposed to say anything or do any freaking thing when I was up there. Does it really make a differen-"

"Strider, you failed to appear on stage." Kanaya walks up, followed by the majority of the cast.

"Brother dear, you need to learn your part and cue."

"By golly Dave, you might just doom the whole opera!"

"F*ckass, where the hell were you?"

"Shit bro, you're lucky that the narrator didn't introduce you."

"Dave I didn't smell you onstage."

"Caught in a spider's web maybe? :::;D"

"Stir-Strider, where, wore *were you?"

Dave wouldn't admit it, but even though his poker face, he was begging for a distraction at the moment. Anything would be fine. Just as long as it turned the attention away from him…

"Sup' guys. How do I look?"

The whole crowd around Dave goes quiet, and seems to simultaneously turn around to stare at Dave: Davesprite, to be exact.

And of course the one to save him would be none other than himself.

The orange sprite has donned one of Dave's suits, as well as Rose's hairband, Karkat's face pain, Terezi's red gloves, and a multitude of other obscure items. Puffing out his chest feathers, he floated in front of the now speechless crowd.

"So… what do you think?" asks the sprite again.

After a couple of seconds, the silence is broken by Kanaya in a voice of pure mortification.

"You ripped the back of the costume."

**- Abscond.**

**As feathers begin to fly, you decide to beat it out of there. Alone, you make it back to the theatre lobby before you are escorted to your front row seat by the pair of nakadiles in suits. You can tell that maybe the rest of the opera won't be **_**as **_**boring…**

**End Intermission**

**WAAAAAH I'M SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING IT ON TIME! School took up a bigger chunk of my time than I thought it would, I'm so sorry!**

**But, anyways, on a happier note, I've decided to change how I'm writing this, and add a little humor to it, so be prepared for a not-so-boring-sort-of-plot-twisty-more-song-filled version. :]**


End file.
